


My Cub

by AriadneVenegas, VincentMeoblinn



Series: How our family comes to be [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Complications, Dom/sub Undertones, Happy Ending, John is a Saint, M/M, Mprg, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Omegaverse, Other, little angst, people meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneVenegas/pseuds/AriadneVenegas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John never faced their feelings until Sherlock was knocked him up in his last heat by his apparent and unknown Pseudo's Alpha. Now they struggle to convince others that this is fine. All fine.</p><p>Important:<br/>This work is the first of this series and is John Pov and it written by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn">VincentMeoblinn</a> She changed to other site <a href="http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/116767.html">there this work</a> so with her permission this work who are one piece with mine comeback to be together in here.</p><p>Thanks to <a href="http://Otala.dreamwidth.org/">Otala</a> who sent us her copy in pdf!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Cub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VincentMeoblinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/gifts).



> A/N See end of story for descriptions of this particular Omegaverse. **I am not the original creator**  
>  of this Story "My cub", I do not own Sherlock BBC nor do I make money from my dirty little fics, or Omegaverse and take no credit for this genius concept: I've just absconded with it and  
> twisted it to my own enjoyment. I can’t stress this enough – Switches please do not be offended,  
> I’m using the term, but not the correct meaning for the purposes of this story. I know you’re all as  
> hot as the rest of us.

Just to explain, it wasn't Sherlock's fault. John had said that more times than he cared to remember. Whenever someone tried to gently remind him that Sherlock got himself into this mess, John was always quick to correct them. It wasn't Sherlock's fault. Whenever someone tried to point out that the other Alpha ought to be the one taking Sherlock to appointments and pampering him, John was always quick to correct them. It wasn't Sherlock's fault. Whenever someone pointed out that John had no responsibility for that bastard sprog whatsoever... well then John had been known to chin him or her.

 

It really wasn't Sherlock's fault. It was both their faults. The pregnancy was an accident, of course, birth control isn't 100%, but no one was really talking about the pregnancy. They were talking about the results of the pregnancy. They were talking about how John ended up being the surrogate Alpha to an Omega that was up the duff with some other Alpha's cub. Because, really, Omega's ended up full bellied on a regular basis - that was the point of their existence - and it was only a fool who didn't realize they should be using extra protection besides pills. So the other Alpha was responsible; not Sherlock's flat mate who hadn't even been in the city when Sherlock went on heat. They had timed it that way on purpose.

 

Better start at the beginning.

 

John always left town - and made a point of stating he was doing so on his blog - since the very idea of unmated Alpha's and Omega's flat-sharing had already raised questions in the papers. Especially when it was revealed that they had opposing dynamics. How the nearly extinct Omega-Dominant had ended up picking the nearly-as-rare Alpha-Submissive for a flat mate accidentally was beyond anyone's comprehension. Especially since the Omega-Dom in question was Sherlock Effing Holmes. The man was easily the most observant man in the world and hadn't noticed John's dynamic. Like everyone John ran across, Sherlock had smelled Alpha and assumed Dom: despite his own Dynamic’s inconsistency. That was the norm, wasn't it? It was a reporter who had run across John’s military transcripts (illegally) and published his Dynamic in the paper. Sherlock’s Sex and Dynamic had been well known (John had been informed by Sally Donovan the day they met as an explanation about why Sherlock was so freakish) so when John’s hit the papers everyone had basically fangirl’d in the streets. They assumed it was confirmation that John and Sherlock were an item since their Sex and Dynamic were a perfect match. Sherlock had looked betrayed by John’s ‘secret’ and refused to speak to him for a full month. John had rather enjoyed the quiet.

 

Then Sherlock had fallen pregnant and all hell had really broken loose.

 

Ok. Explanation and back-story made. Better start from the _beginning_ , beginning.

 

John had returned from his trip to see his sister and found Sherlock asleep with his head resting on the toilet seat in their loo. 

 

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, I leave for one month and what happens? You fall ill and sleep on the toilet!"

 

"I said 'we need a new toilet seat.'" Was the muffled reply from John's erstwhile still flatmate.

 

"What?" John stepped forward and leaned down to check on how bad off Sherlock was.

 

"Two days ago. I said 'we need a new toilet seat'. This one is scuffed, stained, and cracked in one place."

 

"For the thousandth time, I can't possibly hear you from outside the room, let alone all the way at Harry's place and... Have you been here for two days?!"

 

"Unless my phone is damaged, which is possible since I dropped it in the toilet at one point..." Sherlock held it up to his face with a trembling arm.

 

"God! I'm getting you to hospital."

 

"Why?"

 

"You're weak, sick, and dehydrated. Severely. I'm shocked you're conscious!"

 

"I do seem to have lost some few hours, and it didn’t feel like sleep..."

 

John had been surprised at how complacent Sherlock was. Usually the man was stubborn in the extreme, a fact John wrote off to his determination to prove he could Dominate as well as an Alpha could. That behavior was salt in the wounds of the Met who were full of Alpha Dom's who hated how pushy and arrogant the Omega was. Intelligent was fine, Omega's were supposed to be smart... smart and at home or in an office, with a babe on their teat, and their superior intellect geared towards the advancement of the world. Not tromping about London, full of barely-legal birth control and solving crimes! Oh, of course the police force had a few Omega detectives, but they were kept safely in offices where they belonged, usually with a crib or two full of squalling infants, and sent out their Beta assistants to do the leg work. John pulled himself out of his reverie and half-carried Sherlock into the A&E.

 

John pulled himself out of his reverie and half-carried Sherlock into the A&E. 

 

One hour later, a pale-faced nurse called him into Sherlock’s room. Thinking the worst, John had rushed in and scented the air automatically when Sherlock wasn’t found in his line of vision. He rounded the bed to find him pressed against a corner on the floor, wide-eyed and pale.

 

“Did they tell you?” Sherlock demanded, his voice full of unfamiliar vulnerability that terrified John. 

 

“No. Tell me what?”

 

“Good. You aren’t to know. Now take me home.”

 

John swallowed his frustration and tugged Sherlock gently out of the corner and back to the bed. He consulted with the nurses, who wouldn’t explain anything to him, but kept giving him worried looks. Finally he was told Sherlock could go home with some equipment and medication. Mycroft met him not five minutes later with explanation that a car was downstairs to see Sherlock home in comfort along with all his gear. Mycroft was watching John through narrowed eyes; as if he expected him to do something mad.

 

“Has he told you what's going on?”

 

“Of course.” Mycroft scoffed.

 

The git.

 

Once Sherlock was comfortably settled on the couch with a cup of ginger tea for his stomach and a saline drip for his other ailments, John calmly organized Sherlock’s medication on the counter. He had been firmly ordered by Sherlock not to look at the labels, and John obeyed despite the fact that Sherlock hadn’t used his Dom voice on him. He had always automatically obeyed Sherlock, and Sherlock took unconscious advantage of it, but they had an unspoken non-Contractual agreement in place. They treated each other as friends, not Dom and Sub, and Sherlock had never used his Dom voice on John. Not intentionally, at least. There was that time at the pool when he’d ordered Moriarty and all his Dom snipers to kneel in one brutal command. John’s knees had hit the floor and he’d started panting with desire before his brain could process the movement. Sherlock had stripped the winter coat and vest full of sim-tech off of him in one fell swoop and deposited it on one Jim Moriarty, who had looked decidedly stunned and aroused; Omega Submissive, it turned out. He’d been helpless once Sherlock had decided to Dom him. John had been shocked at how powerful a Dom Sherlock was; realizing at that point why he was so annoyed that people didn’t simply take his word as gospel. Sherlock had politely ignored John’s prominent erection and they’d never spoken of it, not even to explain to Lestrade how Sherlock had gotten the situation in hand.

 

John sighed in frustration. This was why Alpha and Submissive just didn’t and shouldn’t go together. His wires were all crossed. Alpha meant a desire to sire children, feed and provide for an Omega, and create a pack. Submissive meant a desire to kneel at a Dominants feet and obey their every whim. How often had he fought the urge to kneel before Sherlock? How often had he given in to his urge to try and convince him to eat? It was a tightrope and he was wavering from side to side without a pole to balance him. If he had been a proper Dom he would have told Sherlock to stuff it far more often than he did. If Sherlock had been a proper Submissive he would have cleaned the damned flat from time to time. Instead everything was unbalanced. They both ignored their reproductive urges, Sherlock seeking his relief from Heat god-knows-where, and spent their time dancing a rather dangerous D/s dance around each other. There was a betting pool at NSY as to when it would finally fall apart.

 

Heat… John thought, and instantly it all made sense. John’s head spun and he briefly wondered if this was how Sherlock felt when everything clicked into place.

 

“Sherlock? Are you…” He cut himself off at the look of horror Sherlock threw him, “hungry?”

 

“I… yes… I’ll need to eat with my medication anyway. If… if I decide to take it. They said I don’t have to.”

 

“Yes, they mentioned that to me, too. I haven’t looked, by the way. You asked me not to,” told me not to, “so I haven’t looked at it.”

 

“Thank you, John.”

 

John smiled tightly and walked away, trying to ignore the buzz in his stomach that resulted from being told by a Dom that he’d done well. It wasn’t healthy of him to feed off of this. He should stick to his Beta Switch girlfriends. He preferred the female form anyway, and no Omega Sub would have him. Who wanted a defective Alpha?

 

It was a week later when John came into the apartment to find the place ransacked. Sherlock was curled up beneath his desk, groaning in pain, his back facing outward as he used his body and the desk as a shield to protect his sensitive stomach.

 

“Oh, god,” John breathed, glancing around quickly to ascertain if the threat were still present. A sniff told him the story. Alpha Dominant, the smell of rage, the increasing smell of blood, Sherlock’s blood, Sherlock smelling of fear and sorrow. John knelt by Sherlock’s side and called 999 as he tried to extricate Sherlock from beneath the desk as carefully as possible. Sherlock rolled over and buried his face into John’s side.

 

“You weren’t here and I needed you.”

 

The words were barely a whisper, but they assaulted John at the same time as his nose registered the full scent of pregnancy on Sherlock. Of course, Sherlock’s Alpha Dom had been here, and his presence had set off the next round of hormones in Sherlock. His body had taken in one whiff of the father-to-be’s scent and decided it should show off it’s pregnancy to him. He obviously hadn’t taken it well.

 

“I won’t leave again. I won’t.”

 

John vaguely recognized what had just happened between them. He’d as good as offered himself up as Sherlock’s Alpha, but he wasn’t Sherlock’s Alpha and he wasn’t the sire of the child he was carrying.

 

“I’ll kill that bastard,” John breathed as they loaded Sherlock onto a stretcher.

 

Lestrade tried to stop him from clamoring into the back of the ambulance and John fought him off with a snarl. He found himself pinned to the ground outside of 221B before he could so much as blink.

 

“I’m sorry, John, but I can’t let you do that. Omegas are too important. There are too few of them. No one blames you, but you’re going to have to come with us. We’ll come back once you’ve calmed down and pack up your things. You can stay with me a while, eh?”

 

“What? What are you talking about? Let me go! I promised Sherlock I wouldn’t leave him again!”

 

“Sorry, what?” Lestrade asked. Donovan looked equally confused and a little fidgeting.

 

The ambulance closed its doors and Sherlock started shouting for him. John struggled more but was quickly subdued by a barely enthusiastic order from Donovan. The Domme could drop him without effort, and John didn’t have a proper Contract with Sherlock, so he had no choice but to respond. Whimpering at his failure John watched the ambulance drive away with his Omega.

 

_Not my Omega._

 

“He’s my Omega.” John argued as he tried to get out of their grasp.

 

“Clearly he ain’t,” Lestrade nodded towards John’s instinctive Domme-induced erection, which John had no way to hide during their tussle, “and I know you weren’t here during his last heat, John. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to face it. It’s not yours.”

 

“What has biology got to do with it?!”

 

The thought he meant the erection, but he’d meant the cubs parentage. They ignored him and he soon found himself sedated by another medic that had been hanging around to ‘deal’ with the ‘abandoned Alpha’.

 

That was the first time anyone had thrown his lack of claim in his face, and Sherlock was quick to remedy the situation by raising holy hell at the hospital until Mycroft was forced to acknowledge their intended bond. He was still protesting it when Lestrade carefully led John into the hospital room. They had taken his statement and said they believed him when he claimed he hadn’t been the Alpha to attack Sherlock, but they’d left him in the cuffs with the explanation that they calmed him so well. It was more likely that they’d left them on in order to lead him here with minimal options if he went berserk upon smelling Sherlock’s continued pregnancy, but John only relaxed more at the scent.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m a piss poor protector if every would be Dom/me on the street can drop me.” John stated with head bowed. 

 

John had never allowed himself to behave this submissively in front of anyone before, but it was clearly needed at the moment. Everyone seemed to take it in and relax. Until Mycroft produced the Contract with the statement that it would stop other Dom/mes from interfering. Then Lestrade went into full Alpha-pack-leader mode.

 

“John’s not the bloody father and I won’t let you two damn Holmes’ force him into a lifetime commitment!”

 

“John is an Alpha, not an Omega, he can hardly be forced…” Mycroft argued, but for once Lestrade wasn’t bending.

 

“John’s a Sub and you know it! What if it were your pack?!”

 

“John and Sherlock are my pack.”

 

Resounding silence at that statement. Mycroft was an Omega Submissive, a powerful one in the government, and it was unlike him to claim ties anywhere, but Sherlock was known as his pack due to familial links. John on the other hand, was being acknowledged for the first time. Instincts ran deep. Sometimes packs didn’t even consciously know their own members until one of them was in danger or pregnant and they instinctively rushed to that person’s side. Mycroft might just be figuring this out now, as well. Lestrade had indicated his connection to Sherlock and John before when he’d risen to their defense on occasion, but now he was going to have to face a connection with Mycroft, even if it was only a visceral one.

 

“I’ve got both their interests in mind, not just Sherlock’s, and you’re clearly biased,” Lestrade continued, a bit softer now that he realized what he was dealing with, “I’ll take care of Sherlock through his pregnancy. I’m his pack leader. It falls to me.”

 

“Not if there is an Alpha willing to take up parental rights, which John has indicated he is,” Mycroft snipped.

 

“John isn’t thinking straight, and Alpha’s don’t just fall from the sky and take up parental rights! Not unless their pack leaders, which John can’t possibly be! John is a fuckin’ Sub!” Lestrade yelled once more.

 

“John is also in the same bloody room!” John broke in with a snarl, “and this is what I want. I’m not some simpering Sub without a clue what to do with myself if I’m not on my knees giving head! I’m a fucking Alpha, too, and Sherlock is my Omega.”

“Even I must acknowledge the futility of that statement,” Mycroft sighed, “when you’ve never laid a hand on him. Sherlock, are you sure…”

 

John interrupted them by tugging his arm out of Lestrade’s grip and striding quickly over to Sherlock. He leaned forward, offering his neck awkwardly as his arms were still cuffed behind him, and Sherlock tugged him close to rub John’s scent glands. They parted and John sniffed his hair, checking to see if the scent was taking. It was. They’d started the courting process. John would have to renew that scent daily, but that was no hardship since it released pleasurable endorphins to have those glands stroked.

 

“Well. I suppose that settles it. He’s hardly trying to kill him or the… infant… now is he?” Mycroft pointed out.

 

“This ain’t natural.” Lestrade groaned, rubbing at his face. 

 

“Neither of them is natural. Perhaps there is more here at work than we know, or perhaps their skewed dynamics are causing their instincts to react improperly. Either way, I hardly see how we can stand in their way. They are consenting adults.”

 

Mycroft nudged the Contract on the table and Lestrade stepped forward to read it over before giving his permission. Many a Contract had been brought under contest to the magistrate because a pack leader hadn’t read it before hand, usually because the leader was unknown at the time. John was relieved that they knew who theirs was and that there would be little anyone could do to split them up once this was signed. He wouldn’t even have to obey other Dom/me’s anymore, although the scenting process was what really took care of that, not some silly piece of paper. Briefly John worried if it would work since the scenting was on Sherlock and not himself, but it was all they could do. Omegas couldn’t scent their Alphas.

 

Lestrade uncuffed John and handed him a pen so he could fill in his parts of the Contract. It was a bit confusing since he was filling in parts of both the Sub and Dom side, in order to acknowledge his Alpha traits, but they worked it out. John grinned happily when he saw that he now had an actual right to make Sherlock eat on a regular basis. Sherlock scowled but filled out his parts without complaint and signed the last page. They were officially a Mated Pair.

 

Mated. John thought, his chest squeezing a bit. He’d been with an Omega or two during Heat, but it was entirely different from being in a committed relationship with one. John was going to be able to stay by Sherlock’s side forever. They were going to raise a child together. He had an Omega. He had a Dom! John had never actually been Dominated before. It was illegal for Alpha’s to date other Alpha’s and he’d never met another Omega Dom besides Sherlock. He occasionally met up with Beta Switches who would attempt to Dom him, but it wasn’t the same. They couldn’t use Dom Voice and had never gotten him into subspace before. He wanted that. Desperately.

 

For now, he’d have to wait, though, because Sherlock’s eyes were drooping and the nurse was sending them all scathing looks for keeping her patient awake so late. John dropped into the reclining chair left for mates with a sense of appropriateness. He now had full rights with Sherlock. This was going to be brilliant. 

 

It was a nightmare. Everywhere he turned his pack members were showing themselves. Sally Donovan had tried to talk him into seeing a magistrate a good dozen times to break off the contract, pulling out legal textbooks and stating he’d been under duress. Never mind that sort of thing applied to Omega Sub’s forced into mating contracts during their own pregnancies. His sister showed up and spent an hour screaming in Dom Voice before she’d finally acknowledged that John no longer had to obey her. That settled the debate over the scenting issue. Sherlock had sat on the couch, wrapped in bandages and woozy with medication, and screamed insults at her. He never tried to Dom her, for which John was obscenely grateful since he probably would have been able to. If Sherlock hadn’t been the stronger Dom, Harry would have gotten the better of John before now.

Eight months later and it had all settled into routine. Sherlock complained constantly, John doted on him or told him off in turn, and they still had not seen hide or hair of the angry Alpha Sire. People now threw John pitying looks and gently said that horrid line about it being Sherlock’s fault whenever they thought John was out of earshot. John was sick of it all, but also elated. Sherlock had proven to be a fantastic and enthusiastic lover, dedicating entire hours to Dominating John until his discomfort over pregnancy had limited them to more vanilla forms of sex. John didn’t care. He was still getting laid regularly and the memory of subspace was enough to send him spiraling into it the moment he heard Sherlock’s voice whispering something filthy in his ear.

 

Sherlock never went into labor properly, he just got more miserable and more miserable until John was spending entire days rubbing oil across his swollen belly and sore back. Finally John called St. Bartholomew’s and made an appointment for an inducement. The doctor took one look at Sherlock’s fully shut cervix and scheduled him for a Cesarean that evening. Sherlock had looked so relieved that John had laughed out loud. That had earned him a tossed pillow. 

 

Routine procedure. It didn’t stop either of their nerves and John was in full Sub mode when they wheeled Sherlock into the OR. The nurses had to yell at him until he finally stopped trying to stuff a pillow under Sherlock’s head. A couple of guards were present, but John ignored them. He was used to the discrimination that came with being Dynamically skewed.

 

The surgery went without a hitch right up until they pulled the baby from Sherlock’s body and turned away to clean and put the squalling creature to rights. There was silence from the hospital staff for a moment after those first cries. John was reassuring Sherlock and didn’t notice the movements of the guards until they had grabbed him under his arms and forcibly dragged him away.

 

 _Oh, god, no_. John thought, head reeling at the implication. The guards wouldn’t have dragged an Alpha out of the room unless there was something seriously wrong; something that would cause an Alpha’s instincts to kick in; something like a dead or dying cub or Omega.

 

“Oh, god, let me back in. Let me see them. Please! Don’t makes Sherlock go through this alone! I won’t flip out! I won’t! Please!!”

 

John was dragged into the Alpha Prep Room and no amount of struggling and begging stopped them from chaining him to the wall. Then they stepped back and gave him a suitably confused look. John hadn’t stopped babbling pleas, and it took him a full two minutes to acknowledge their confusion.

 

“I’m an Alpha Sub. I won’t act like Alpha Dom’s,” He’d barely avoided saying ‘you guys’, “I won’t freak out. Just let me back in. He needs me.”

 

“You have a pack leader?”

 

“Yes, but he’s on duty. Cop. He couldn’t be here.” Greg was chasing down a serial killer in another district, having been called in for his experience since Sherlock was indisposed.

 

“Shit.” The two said in unison, leaving John wondering just how bad it is. 

 

No use doing anything besides asking.

 

“Just tell me straight. Will either of them live?”

 

The guards sighed and one of them exited the room, presumably to get information. A nurse came in a few minutes later. A sniff of the air revealed her as Omega. Her demeanor seemed Submissive.

 

“Sir, I’m afraid I have bad news, begging your pardon.”

 

“I’m an Alpha Sub, not a Dom, just spit it out!” John shouted at her. He hated the way Subs danced around Doms as if their shit didn’t stink!

 

“The baby isn’t yours.”

 

“It’s… what? Of course it’s mine.”

 

“No Sir… er… Mister?”

 

“Doctor,” John snapped, though that was hardly relevant, “how do you even know? That should only be obvious to the parents.”

 

The woman sighed and shook her head, black curls bobbing and reminding him achingly of Sherlock.

 

“She isn’t even Caucasian, darling. I’m sorry, but it is fairly obvious you aren’t the Sire.”

 

“I have a daughter?” John knew he was grinning like a fool, and the two Alpha guards and the Omega nurse actually took a step back. He must have really looked mad.

 

“Look, fine, I know I’m not biologically the Sire, but that doesn’t mean I’m not her father. People adopt kids all the time. I’ll fill out the proper paperwork…”

 

“It isn’t a matter of paperwork, Doctor Watson, it’s about instinct,” The woman took a deep breath and launched into an explanation worthy of lecture hall.

 

“Once an Alpha notices via scent that a newborn cub is not his or her own he will automatically kill it in order to secure his mating privileges with the strayed Omega. This is done in order to promote the survival of his own lineage and…”

 

“Don’t you think that would have happened already?”

 

“No, you were too far away to smell the cub…”

 

“I mean before she was born. I’ve known all along I wasn’t the father. I never tried to induce a miscarriage. Unlike that bastard who knocked Sherlock up in the first place,” John scowled, then sighed and rolled his eyes at the skepticism in front of him, “I was cleared of all charges nearly nine months ago! I’m not the one who attacked Sherlock!”

 

Another Omega nurse entered the room, and he was actually in tears. For a moment John feared the worst, that Sherlock’s absent Alpha had showed up to finish what he’d started, but the man quickly put his fears to rest.

 

“Mister, sorry, Sir Holmes is demanding we bring his Alpha… Sub?” John nodded to the man, “His Alpha Sub to him.”

 

They all converged in what seemed to be a scrimmage huddle, before breaking out and looking at John sadly.

 

“We can’t disobey a Dom patients direct orders, unless they’re harmful to the patient. This one is.”

 

“I’m not going to hurt my child! Fine! Sherlock’s child! I’m not going to hurt her!”

 

“We can’t believe you.” The first nurse informed him, meaning _instinctively_ they _couldn’t believe_ him. John didn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes he’d be saying the same thing. Instinct was him. John didn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes he’d be saying the same thing. Instinct was  
just too powerful. It ruled their lives.

 

“However,” the male Omega nurse was speaking now, “we can’t just keep you locked up here and your mate is demanding your presence. We’ve got instructions from the head of the department to keep the Omega separate from the cub, that’s standard procedure until these things can be sorted out, and now we’ve got fresh orders. You’re to be introduced to the cub.”

 

John nodded his understanding. Omega’s who were unfaithful gave up their rights to their children by default if they stayed with an Alpha that hadn’t Sired the child. Under normal circumstances they were kept separate, forced to either bond with the proper Sire or sign adoption papers to give up the child; the cub would only be brought out of seclusion if all conditions were met. Sherlock was claiming his child’s Sire had tried to kill the cub, and his current mate, who was decidedly not the Sire, wanted the child alive. They were improvising. Either way, Sherlock hadn’t had a chance to scent his child, so if John killed it Sherlock would survive the loss with counseling; if John simply decided it wasn’t worth his time and left the unscented child could be sent to a proper home or given to Sherlock to raise with only his pack leader as Alpha.

 

John was unchained from the wall and a hospital bassinet was wheeled in. The nurses and guards left the room, the two Omega’s clutching each other and sobbing a bit at the future loss of life. John approached the bassinet with his first feelings of hesitation since Sherlock had first told him he was needed.

 

The squalling baby inside had squirmed enough to release herself from her swaddling and was waving a coffee and extra-cream fist in the air. Not Caucasian, but he’d been warned of that. Perhaps part Indian or African? It hardly mattered, at least not until John’s careful perusal of her- that had started at her tiny curled toes and moved upwards- caught site of a mess of dark curly hair. Would they be rough or soft curls? Sherlock’s or the Sire’s? With her tiny face screwed up in misery it was hard to tell if she resembled Sherlock at all. John reached out a trembling hand and ran them through the silken curls with a sigh of relief. He had no idea why that was so important to him. Perhaps he simply wanted some part of this child to resemble Sherlock rather than a stranger who had abused him.

 

John carefully picked the tiny child up, and the sudden contact after being alone and cold for so long hushed the baby. Outside the door John heard the sound of increased sobs. It sounded like more than two. Probably the entire staff that had delivered Sherlock’s child, three Omegas and two Betas, was outside the door mourning her violent death. John ignored it as he raised the child to his face to breath in her scent. Final test. If he didn’t go feral and kill her now, he never would. John breathed in and the smell of Sherlock and some odd unfamiliar musk assaulted his nose. John sneezed over his shoulder and tried again. Sherlock, unfamiliar musk, and soft baby girl smell. He breathed in a third time and sighed happily. His baby girl. No matter what anyone said.

 

Tears running freely down his cheeks, John tucked the child’s head under his chin and gently scented her, hoping his stubble wouldn’t leave abrasions on her delicate skin. She squalled out her indignation at his treatment, but he only chuckled and scented her torso before lowering her back into the bassinet and re-swaddling her. He was glad for the parenting courses he’d taken, as there was enough kicking legs to be worried about without not knowing how to swaddle. He decided against wheeling her out the door and scooped her back up again.

 

The sight of the people gathered outside, including the head of department, caused John to growl a warning out. His cub still hadn’t been scented by its mother. She was in danger of being claimed by others. Shocked faces registered the child as still alive, and darted out of the way. An Alpha guard blurted out Sherlock’s room number and waived him in the correct direction. Holding his screaming daughter to his chest, John bolted for the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

 

“Give her to me! NOW!”

 

John flinched at the panic in Sherlock’s Dom Voice, but didn’t hesitate to press their daughter into his arms. Who could blame Sherlock for being upset at the absence of his cub?

 

Sherlock brought her to his face and sniffed deep several times, memorizing the scent as John had. He’d be able to pick his daughter out of a line-up with his other senses incapacitated now.

 

“You’ve already scented her.”

 

“They brought her to me first,” John replied apologetically. He couldn’t just walk around with her unscented. Sherlock made no further comment, and set about scenting their child himself.

 

“Next time shave first, you’ve left red marks on her skin with your stubble.”

 

“Yes, Sherlock.” John sighed.

 

Sherlock tugged his hospital gown down and pressed the child to the soft swell of his chest, barely rounded despite the weight he’d gained during the pregnancy and the milk that must be filling it. The whimpering child latched on and gave a mighty suck, causing Sherlock to wince and swear under his breath. She soon settled into the suck-pause-swallow of a happy nursing baby. They both sighed in relief.

 

A knock at the door had John tensing and he growled as he approached it. A turn of the knob revealed Mycroft, looking tenser than John had ever seen him before.

 

“You knew I might kill her, you bastard!”

 

“You went to medical school. I assumed you knew as well.”

 

“I wasn’t…” John stopped himself. He wasn’t going to admit he hadn’t been thinking clearly, “You were just going to let it happen?”

 

“No, of course not. I could hardly allow a future Holmes to be mauled to death by an errant Alpha. The child was to be brought to me if you showed any kind of aggression toward it. I did leave orders that a guard was to stay with you the entire time…” Mycroft glared over his shoulder, “but my orders were ignored.”

 

Not a surprise. Omegas might run the world, but direct orders to individuals were generally treated with Alphanizing smiles and pats on the head. Sure we’ll do what you say, little Sub.

 

John stepped aside and Mycroft entered, sucking in his breath in surprise at the sight of Sherlock nursing their daughter.

 

“She has Sherlock’s curls,” John beamed proudly.

 

“My lips, too,” Sherlock supplied with a smirk.

 

Mycroft stepped closer, but did not touch. No Omega’s would be allowed to touch her for some months as the parents both made sure her scent was firmly imprinted in both their and her memory.

 

The door opened again and John swirled to face it, arms out and teeth bared, ready to kill whoever threatened their family… only to drop nearly to his knees as Lestrade Dom’d him with a look, probably the only Dom besides Sherlock capable of that.

 

_Pack leader. Safety. Safety._

 

John instinctively rushed forward and threw his arms around Lestrade, breathing in his scent from his neck to comfort himself.

 

“Oh, god, you have no idea what I’ve been through tonight.”

 

“Healthy baby was the result, from the look of things,” Lestrade comforted with a gentle caress through John’s hair.

 

“Beautiful, healthy baby girl!” John beamed, tugging Lestrade closer by his arm. Lestrade allowed it. He made a lot of allowances for his two dynamically skewed pack members.

 

“That she is!” Lestrade praised, nodding to Sherlock, who ignored him in favor of staring in awe at the baby in his arms, “what’s her name, then?”

 

“Molly,” Sherlock informed calmly.

 

John caught his breath. Sherlock had a lot of nerve naming their daughter after someone they knew, but Molly was an Omega so it wasn’t as though anyone would accuse her of being the Sire. Besides, John knew how important Molly was to Sherlock even if he refused to acknowledge her as the pack member she obviously was. Even Lestrade had acknowledged her last Christmas.

 

“Molly,” John sighed, leaning forward to nuzzle her soft curls.

 

The baby gave an angry squawk before re-latching and sucking angrily. Sherlock winced and then laughed at her antics while John tried to puzzle out what had upset her.

 

“I don’t think she’s going to share,” Sherlock chuckled.

 

“Fantastic. Something else she takes after you for. You’re bloody personality!”

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Alpha** \- Able to impregnate - make up 25% of the population - Usually large and less intelligent -  
>  make up a majority of police and military forces. Due to their large physical size it is illegal for an  
> Alpha to sexually penetrate another Alpha.  
>  **Omega** \- Able to bear young - make up 10% of the population - very fertile and intelligent - all  
>  politicians, doctors, lawyers, etc., are Omega's.
> 
>  **Beta** \- Sterile - making up the majority of the population - average in every way including  
>  intelligence, they are involved in most trades and fields of work. Can only marry each other. Only  
> Switches.
> 
>  **Dominant** \- Sexually more aggressive, usually tending towards sadism  & bondage, capable of  
> using Dom Voice to force Submissives and lesser Dom’s to obey them instantly. Dom Voice  
> causes involuntary arousal in Submissives, which is why it is considered impossible to rape a  
> Submissive, but possible to force them into marriage.
> 
>  **Submissive** \- Sexually demure, usually tending towards masochism  & being bound  
> Switch - NOT relating to the typical BDSM term of switch (Switches - please don't take offense, I  
> mean no disrespect) this person is dynamically ambivalent and will simply respond in the way  
> their partner enjoys - if their partner is an Omega Sub they will top and Dom them. Some are  
> completely asexual. Sherlock was often mistaken for a Switch until he either corrected someone or  
> Dom’d them. They are not passionate and are usually Beta's. Alpha and Omega Switches are rare,  
> considered anomalies, and treated with disdain as they rarely end up reproducing which is the goal  
> of society.
> 
> Alpha Dominant, Omega Submissive, and Beta Switch are considered normal dynamics. Alpha  
> Submissive, Omega Dominant, and Alpha or Omega Switches are considered dynamically  
> skewed, meaning their instincts do not function correctly. All Beta’s are Switches


End file.
